


James Potter and the Secret Pensive

by ukwritr



Series: James Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukwritr/pseuds/ukwritr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been seventeen years since Lord Voldemort was defeated at the Battle of Hogwarts, and now James Sirius Potter is finally going to Hogwarts. Knowing all that he does about his parents' exploits, he figures that there are no more secrets left for Hogwarts to reveal: how wrong he is! Set in 2015 in James' first year at Hogwarts. Canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letters from Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all the characters, setting, and plot thereof, belong to JK Rowling. I additionally disclaim any right I may have to the copyright of the text below.

‘Master Potter! Master Potter, wake up!’

James Potter began to rise groggily, rubbing his eyes and mumbling choice words of complaint under his breath, before looking down at the hunched over house-elf with skin that looked like it was several sizes too large for its body.

‘Kreacher has made breakfast, and then you are going with your parents to Diagon Alley.’

‘Diagon Alley? Why?’ James groaned, pulling himself upright in his bed.

‘To buy your school things, Master,’ Kreacher said.

James’ eyes flew open. ‘School things?’

‘It is the 25th of July, Master Potter. Your letter will be arriving today.’

His letter. His Hogwarts letter. He scrambled out of bed and ran over to his wardrobe, nearly tripping over his toy broomstick which was hovering about a foot off the ground near his bed.

‘Kreacher will be downstairs with your toast, Sir,’ Kreacher said, before disapparating with a crack.

Once he was somewhat presentable, he padded down the brightly lit stairs from his bedroom on the second floor, to the hallway. The house was large, spread over five floors plus a basement and bore the unmistakable signs of having been completely gutted and redecorated sometime in the past. He emerged into the whitewashed hallway and walked past the empty portrait of Albus Dumbledore down into the kitchen.

‘Morning James,’ his Dad said, looking up from his paper. ‘Are Lily and Albus up yet?’

James shrugged.

‘Kreacher was just on his way to wake them, Master,’ the house-elf interrupted. He put a plate of warm toast in front of James and disapparated.

‘We’re just waiting for the owl and for your mother to pick up Teddy, and then we’ll be off.’

James nodded mutely and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table where Kreacher had left his toast.

‘Wh— when is the letter coming?’ James asked.

‘Soon,’ his dad replied with a gentle smile. ‘Neville tries to make sure all of them arrive before ten o’clock.’

James nodded again, attempting to chew on a bite of toast. A moment later the fireplace at the end of the room lit up bright green and ejected two people with a whoosh. His mother and a lanky boy with shocking blue hair emerged, walking over to where James and his dad were sitting.

‘Have the owls arrived yet Harry?’ his mum said, giving his dad a quick kiss on the lips.

‘No, not yet,’ his dad replied. ‘How’re you doing Teddy?’

‘Pretty good, thanks,’ replied James’ godbrother.

‘Looking forward to your last year at Hogwarts?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Teddy replied with a grin, ‘should be a blast. Of course I’ll be working a lot, what with N.E.W.T.s and everything,’ he added quickly, catching the look on Ginny’s face.

‘You’re still planning to join Gringotts after then?’ Harry asked.

‘Yep. Uncle Bill’s agreed to let me shadow him for a while on his trip to Jordan. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some experience there.’

There was a sudden crash from upstairs.

‘Ah, that’ll be the owl now,’ said Harry, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I wish Kreacher would just leave the window open.’

‘He’s got far too much work as it is,’ Ginny said, taking a piece of James’ toast. ‘I do think we should try and get someone to help him. I’m sure Professor McGonagall will be able to spare one of the kitchen elves from Hogwarts.’

‘Merlin, no,’ replied Harry, ‘he’d have a heart attack.’

Just then, Kreacher reappeared in the kitchen. ‘The morning post, master,’ he said, handing Harry a pile of letters, ‘Mistress Lily and Master Albus are awake and on their way downstairs now. Would Mistress like some breakfast, perhaps some more toast, or orange juice?’ he added, noticing Ginny.

‘No, thank you Kreacher,’ she replied.

‘I’d love some toast, Kreacher,’ said Teddy.

‘Of course, Master Edward.’

Kreacher handed Teddy a plate of toast and then disapparated back upstairs, while Teddy flopped down next to James.

‘First year then, eh?’ he said, nudging James.

James nodded, carefully avoiding Teddy eye and attempting to swallow another bite of his toast.

‘Don’t worry,’ Teddy said jovially, waving a slice of toast around, ‘you’ll be fine. Just make sure you mind the moving staircases. And Peeves,’ he paused thoughtfully. ‘And there are the steps which try to swallow you, and that bathroo—’

‘Teddy!’ James’ mum and dad both said simultaneously.

‘That’s enough,’ Harry finished, though he was also sporting a suppressed grin. ‘Here are both of your Hogwarts letters.’

James looked up sharply, to see his dad’s outstretched hand holding the letter. The envelope was thick, much thicker than Teddy’s, but made of the same yellowish parchment and addressed to him in emerald-green ink. Trembling slightly, he ripped open the elaborate maroon seal on the back and pulled out the shorter of the two bits of parchment inside.

 

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
_ _Headmistress: Professor Minerva McGonagall, OMFC, Grand Sorc._

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all your necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your parents’ owl confirming your attendance no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Neville Longbottom, OMFC  
_ _Deputy Headmaster_

 

‘No new books for me,’ Teddy said, happily surveying his letter. ‘I might need to get new robes from Malkin’s though.’

‘James, what about you?’ his dad asked.

‘Oh? Here,’ he thrust the longer piece towards his dad, whilst still staring at his acceptance letter.

‘All the usual stuff then,’ his mum said, looking over his dad’s shoulder.

‘Mm, they’re still using Bathilda Bagshot’s book, I see.’

‘Can you ever imagine Professor Binns using anything else? He probably knows the whole book off by heart by now.’

‘Well, apart from A Modern History of Magic, we’ve got all of these already. I don’t see the need to buy new ones.’

James looked up suddenly. ‘What? No, I—’

He broke off when he saw his mother attempting to stifle laughter.

‘Don’t listen to your father,’ she said, attempting (and failing) to look reproachfully at him. ‘I don’t even think he’s still got any of his old school books.’

‘No, you’re right. I left them all at your parents’ place after the wedding,’ his dad said.

‘Yes, and Mum’s probably still got all of them, knowing her,’ said Ginny.

‘Lily, Albus!’ Teddy’s shouted out to the two smaller children who had just appeared in the doorway. ‘How are you two today?’

‘Fine,’ Albus replied. ‘Are we going to Diagon Alley dad?’

‘Yep, we’re just leaving. Get some breakfast you two.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this is my first fic for a really long time, and my first ever for Harry Potter. I was re-reading the books for the nth time, and honestly just couldn’t really let go. Please let me know what you think. I’ve got pretty thick skin, so don’t hold back on the criticism. Compliments are nice also.
> 
> This is being cross-posted to FFN, and they are two chapters ahead. I’m planning on doing a chapter a week. I don’t know how many chapters it’s going to be yet, but I’m guessing about fifteen.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all the characters, setting, and plot thereof, belong to JK Rowling. I additionally disclaim any right I may have to the copyright of the text below.

They arrived in the Leaky Cauldron with a _whoosh_ out of the fireplace in the main bar area. James stumbled up onto his feet and gave a cough to clear the soot from his mouth. Floo powder was not his favourite method of transport.

‘Where’re Bill and Victoire?’ Teddy asked, stepping somewhat more gracefully than James out of the fireplace.

An owl from Shell Cottage had arrived just as they were leaving, saying that James’ uncle and cousin were going to be in Diagon Alley as well. The news seemed to make Teddy very happy for some reason.

‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll be around. We’ll meet up with them in Weasley’s if we don’t find them,’ Harry replied.

They made their way to the door at the far end of the bar towards the small courtyard James knew separated Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron. His dad tapped the required bricks on the far wall of the courtyard with his wand, and whole thing began to quiver and wriggle. Slowly, a large archway emerged, leading into a small cobbled street which twisted and turned far away out of sight.

‘Come on then, Gringotts first.’

His mum lead the way along the winding alley at a steady pace, allowing James to look around at all the shops. They didn’t come to Diagon Alley very often, and James’ favourite shops always had new things in them. There was a gaggle of boys and girls surrounding the window of Broomstix, all looking at the new Nimbus Thunderclap with wonder in their eyes. Next to it, TerrorTours was advertising a special all-inclusive tour of Wizarding America. Up ahead he could see the spectacular purple coloured walls of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Outside it there was a thronging crowd, and its windows were filled with a dazzling assortment of whizzing, popping, bobbing, and bouncing toys.

‘Keep up James, we’ll visit your Uncles later,’ he heard his mum call from up ahead.

They turned the corner and came face to face with the snowy-white marble building of Gringotts. James smiled nervously to the goblin standing guard outside the burnished bronze doors, before quickly following his parents and siblings through the second set of silver doors into the vast marble hall.

‘Right, you and Lily stay here with your mother,’ Harry was saying to Albus, ‘and I’ll take your brother and Teddy down to the vaults.’

‘But I want to go down to the vaults as well,’ Albus protested.

‘It’s quite the ride, Albus. We’ll be going all the way down to the bottom for Teddy’s vault as well,’ his dad said carefully.

‘You can go down next year, okay,’ Ginny added, ‘this is only James’ first time anyway.’

Albus walked sullenly over with Ginny and Lily and they sat down on the waiting benches by the entrance door.

‘Right then, come on you two,’ said Harry.

They made their way over to one of the many counters lining the sides of the hallway, to a goblin sitting on a high stool behind the counter. He was looking thoughtfully at a set of scales next to him and muttering to himself.

‘Morning,’ said Harry, ‘we’d like to go down to the Potter and Lupin vaults.’

The goblin peered over the desk and looked piercingly at all three of them, before leaning back down.

‘You have the keys, sir?’

‘Got them here,’ Harry said, pulling two small golden keys out of his cloak pocket and handing them over.

‘Very well,’ said the goblin, after looking at both the keys for an uncomfortably long period of time, ‘I will call someone to take you down.’

He called for another goblin called Ragnott, who ushered them out through one of the many doors leading out of the hall. On the other side of the door, the marble floors and soaring ceilings were replaced with a narrow stone passageway lined with torches. On the floor in front of them James could make out two railway lines, leading steeply down into the darkness. Ragnott whistled, and a cart came hurtling up, stopping just in time to not fly off the tracks. They all clambered in, and then they were off.

The glow of the torches on the walls flashed past them as they wound through the maze of stone passageways. Left, right, right, left, straight. Eventually they plunged down into a steep descent and James felt his stomach rising up and pressing against his chest, just waiting to burst through. Suddenly, they pulled up from the dive and hurtled along over a huge underground lake. James threw up over the side of the cart straight into the dark water below.

‘Don’t worry, happens to everyone,’ shouted Harry from the front seat.

Soon after, the cart rolled to a halt outside a largish door set against a wall. They all clambered out, and James held his hands up against the wall to stop himself from collapsing as Ragnott unlocked the vault.

Some green smoke puffed out through the opening as his dad stepped through the door to scoop out some golden Galleons, silver Sickles, and little bronze Knuts. James had never seen inside the family vault before. Of course, he knew that they weren’t exactly poor, but he hadn’t ever appreciated quite how much gold was in there. He caught his father’s eye, and quickly rearranged his face from a look of shock to a nonchalant smile. The gentle smile on Harry’s face told him that he hadn’t managed to hide anything anyway.

‘Right then, down to the Teddy’s vault I think,’ Harry said to Ragnott, who promptly closed the door.

The next leg of the ride was even worse than the first. They swooped and swerved around hairpin bend after hairpin bend, plunging deeper and deeper into the depths of London, passing ever larger and grander doorways which, James assumed, lead to more and more spectacular fortunes. Eventually, they pulled up to a large round hall, with five huge doors leading from it. The floor here was marble again, but seemed to be shattered and burned in some places.

‘What happened to the floor?’ asked James.

It was Ragnott who replied. ‘Dragon. It escaped. Demolished half the building with it.’

James’ jaw dropped open. Indeed, he was too shocked to even notice the looks of pure evil that Ragnott was currently shooting towards his father who was, in turn, looking pointedly in the other direction.

‘A dragon?’ asked James incredulously.

‘Yes. To protect the deepest and most guarded vaults,’ came the grunting reply from Ragnott. ‘Stand back whilst I open the vault.’

James watched as he pulled Teddy’s key from the pouch he was carrying and placed it into the lock, before pressing his hand to the door. The door melted away, and James peeked inside before Teddy swept in. There was a sizeable pile of gold inside, and a few of what looked like gold and silver cups and platters.

‘All done,’ Teddy said brightly, emerging a few moments later and stuffing a clanking pouch into his pocket.

‘Come on James,’ Harry said, pushing James back towards the cart and looking distastefully at the hall.

#

Soon enough they had bought nearly everything James needed. He visited Madam Malkin’s and was fitted for robes whilst his mum went to Flourish and Blotts with Albus, Lily, and Teddy, emerging with a large stack of textbooks and without Teddy. She said that Victoire had been inside with Bill, although James wasn’t sure how that was much of an explanation for Teddy’s disappearance. Then they bought what James considered to be about half the stock of Scribbulus’ in parchment, quills, and ink, before going to Potage’s for a cauldron, phials, and a set of scales. Finally, they had only one job left: Ollivanders.

The few times a year they visited Diagon Alley, he had never been into Ollivander’s wand shop. He always stopped and looked, though. Through the window, he could see the tall shelves, stacked high with the long, thin, black, battered boxes. Occasionally he even thought he caught a glimpse of Mr Ollivander in the gloom of the shop.

‘You go on to Ollivanders, Harry,’ said his mum, giving his dad a peck on the cheek, ‘I’ll take these two to see Ron and George. They’re getting a bit restless.’

Indeed, James saw Albus and Lily all but dragging Ginny away towards the fantastical funfare that was the joke shop.

‘Just two more stops and we’re done,’ said his dad, turning towards Ollivander’s door.

‘Two more...’ muttered James confusedly, trailing off as he followed Harry in through the rickety wooden door.

A bell tinkled somewhere in the depths of the place as James followed his dad up to the counter. The boxes were still piled up high behind, just as he had always seen them from outside, but it was different being inside. He could almost feel the magic of the place surrounding him.

‘Ah,’ a soft voice came wafting down an aisle between two of the shelves, ‘Mr Potter. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple, was it not?’

James looked up at his father, who was smiling indulgently. ‘I will never work out how you manage to remember, Mr Ollivander.’

‘Of course, your mother favours a twelve inch ebony and dragon heartstring, somewhat stiff,’ he said, now talking to James. ‘Not that a witch or wizard gets much say in which wand chooses them.’

He paused, before narrowing his eyes sharply at James and picking up a tape measure from the counter.

‘Now then, hold out your wand arm, and we’ll find the right wand for you.’

He measured James’ right arm, and then his wrist and his elbow, before allowing the tape measure to continue of its own accord and moving into the back of the shop, muttering to himself.

‘Hm, yes, let’s try this one,’ he said finally, presenting an open box to James. ‘Mahogany and unicorn hair. Eleven inches. Fairly swishy.’

James picked up the wand from the box and, with an encouraging smile from his dad, gave it a wave. A vase behind the counter smashed, and James jumped, dropping the wand back onto the counter.

‘No, no,’ muttered Mr Ollivander, waving a hand at the vase, which promptly reassembled itself. ‘Perhaps this one. Hawthorn and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Quite flexible.’

James picked it up, but Mr Ollivander grabbed it out from his hand almost straight away and went back into the depths of his shop, rummaging through the myriad shelves. James looked worriedly up at his dad. What if he didn’t get a wand? Would he just have to sit at home, or maybe he’d just go to Hogwarts for one year and have to settle for just taking W.O.M.B.A.T.s like a squib.

‘It took me twelve tries to get my wand. Mr Ollivander quite literally has something for everyone.’

James started, and found Harry leaning down to whisper in his ear. He opened his mouth to reply when Mr Ollivander reappeared and walked back to the counter carrying a battered grey box covered in a thick layer of dust.

‘Now then, we’ve had this one for a while, but I think it will be just the ticket. Maple and phoenix feather. Thirteen inches. Rather rigid.’

James picked it up and instantly knew this was the one. A sudden warmth filled his hand, flowing from where he was gripping the handle of the wand. He gave it a quick wave and some sparks flew out of the end.

‘Oh yes!’ Mr Ollivander cheered, ‘very good, very good.’

James held tightly onto his wand as his dad paid for the wand (eight Galleons), as if someone might swoop down at any moment and take it from him. As they left the shop, he suddenly remembered that his dad had mentioned they needed to visit a second shop.

‘Dad,’ he began, ‘where—’

But Harry was already walking up the alley, towards Eeylops. James grinned.

#

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was as packed as James had ever seen it. It was thronging with children and parents, all taking a break from the back-to-school shopping and laden with textbooks and stationery. The shop itself was covered with merchandise. On the right, by the entrance, was a tall stack of shelves stuffed full of large purple boxes with a large _Snackbox_ logo stamped on the side. Opposite it was another set of shelves, this time filled with orange boxes of spell-checking, self-inking, smart-answering, and auto-insulting quills along with brilliant inks of almost every kind imaginable. In front of the doors was a large staircase, carpeted in plush yellow and surrounded by bins overflowing with joke wands and fascinating little toys. James manouvered around the staircase, trying to avoid hitting people with the cage he was carrying his new tawny owl in, and found another shelf, stacked with little bottles full of an odd silvery fluid that was neither liquid, nor gas, but somewhere in between. They were labelled:

_Daydream Delights: simply swallow whole and enter a high-quality super-realistic daydream for approximately thirty minutes. Perfect for those extra-boring lessons!_

He had just picked up a box when a voice behind him made him jump and drop it.

‘Now then little James,’ said George, beaming, ‘not already thinking of skiving lessons are we?’

James turned to him and grinned. ‘Never.’

His Uncle laughed and tossed him one of the boxes. ‘Have one on the house, and make sure you check out the Extendable Ears and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder upstairs – they’re invaluable for, er, _learning_ ,’ he said the word with a wink, ‘and making a quick getaway. Not that you’d be doing anything of the sort, course.’

‘The learning? Of course not. Can’t guarantee never needing a quick getaway though,’ replied James, grinning wider than ever.

James made his way up the bright yellow stairs to the first floor of the shop. It was much quieter here, with a few people milling about looking at the Muggle magic tricks on one side, and a small gaggle of teenage witches surrounding an eye-wateringly pink collection of love potions, make-ups, and little squeaking fluffy balls which appeared to be alive. A sign marked _Defence Section_ caught his eye, and he followed it around the corner of a tall shelf full of fireworks.

‘James!’ shouted a familiar voice.

He jumped, dropping his box of Daydream Delights, and looked up to see Teddy and Victoire standing in front of him.

‘Oh, hey guys,’ he said, ‘what’re you doing up here?’

‘You know, just looking,’ said Teddy, awkwardly waving a hand.

James frowned, only then noticing that Victoire’s normally pristine blonde hair was all messed up, and they both looked particularly warm. Teddy had changed his hair from blue to brown, and it was now steadily turning pink, although that was less surprising. He changed his hair colour on an almost hourly basis.

‘Are you alright?’ James asked.

‘Er, yeah,’ said Victoire, running a hand through her hair, ‘I think I should probably head back down. Dad’s probably worried. Nice to see you James!’

She ran off round the corner before he could reply, followed in short order by Teddy, who was muttering something under his breath. Feeling thoroughly put-out at his cousin and godbrother’s rapid departure, James began to look around the Defence Section. It was a noticeably more muted area of the shop, with less painfully colourful boxes, but interesting nonetheless. He eventually found the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in-between the Decoy Detonators (‘Perfect for a harmless, deafening distraction’) and a stack of hats, cloaks, and gloves which were enchanted with a shield charm. It came in a little bronze box which indicated that it contained enough powder to plunge an average sized home into darkness. James took two for good measure.

On his way back downstairs he picked up a few boxes of Extendable Ears. They were next to a large stack of Extendable Eyes, but these were marked _Highly Experimental_ , so James decided to steer well clear. He found his dad talking with Uncle Bill next to a large basket overflowing with dolls of a frog faced woman in a pink frilly coat.

‘Ah, there you are James,’ his dad said, taking the pile of things from his hands and examining them.

Suddenly, a fluttery, high-pitched voice from behind him called ‘ _I really do hate children!_ ’

James whirled around to find Lily giggling and prodding one of the frog-woman dolls in the face. Each time she prodded it, it came out with another phrase in that stupid girlish voice.

‘ _I will have order!_ ’

‘ _I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends!_ ’

‘ _Naughty children deserve to be punished!_ ’

James turned back around to find that Victoire was now standing next to her dad, looking significantly less disheveled than she had been upstairs.

‘Hey. Are you going to tell me—’ he stopped short when she shot him a angry glare.

‘Tell you what, James?’ Uncle Bill said, looking curiously at him.

‘What? Oh,’ replied James, frowning at his cousin as she continued to glare at him in a way that said, in no uncertain terms, _keep your mouth shut_. ‘Erm... Where’s Dominique?’ he said finally.

‘She’s at home with Aunt Fleur,’ his dad replied, looking curiously from James to Victoire. He, apparently, had not missed their exchange. ‘Packing.’

‘Packing?’ asked James.

‘Did I not mention it to you? She’s spending her third year at Beauxbatons. Are you done then, James?’

‘Yep.’

‘Right then, let’s go and pay—’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Uncle George said, appearing from nowhere and cutting across Harry. ‘You don’t pay, Harry.’

‘George,’ his dad sighed, ‘it’s been nearly twenty years—’

‘We have this argument every time you come here,’ Uncle George replied, ‘and you always lose. You gave us the money to start up, so you don’t pay for anything.’

‘I gave you that money because I didn’t want it,’ his dad laughed, ‘not so that you would be forever in my debt.’

‘You can argue all you like, I’m not charging you for anything.’

His dad sighed. ‘Alright, alright. Let’s go and find your mother,’ he added to James.

They found Ginny near the front of the shop having a heated discussion with Uncle Ron.

‘Ron, the place is amazing! I don’t know what—’ She broke off as they walked up.

‘Harry!’ Uncle Ron said, giving James’ dad a hug and looking delighted for an excuse to stop his conversation with his sister. ‘How do you fancy heading up to the Cauldron for lunch? I hear that Pete’s got some interesting specials today.’

With that, they all traipsed off to the Leaky Cauldron. Uncle Ron and Uncle George came as well, leaving the shop in the hands of one of their new assistants. Lunch passed uneventfully, as did most of the next month. As each day passed, James found himself becoming more and more restless. Much to Albus and Lily’s amusement, he would unpack and repack his trunk every few days, and wore his new robes around the house half the time to ‘break them in’. On one particularly boring weekend, he popped open his box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and somehow managed to plunge the kitchen, ground floor, and first floor into complete darkness for three hours.

When he wasn’t fiddling with his packing or messing around with his assorted Weasley products, he was reading his schoolbooks. Of course, he wasn’t technically allowed to use magic until he arrived at Hogwarts, but that didn’t stop him managing to successfully get the tip of his wand to light up in a weak glow when he muttered lumos. And then, after nearly a month of monotony, 1 September finally arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to catch this one up to FFN instead of leaving it two chapters behind. I'll put the third one up tomorrow and then we'll be all square.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you’ve got this far, then please do leave a review. I don’t care if it’s just one word, but I like to know if people actually managed to make it to the end of a chapter :)


	3. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all the characters, setting, and plot thereof, belong to JK Rowling. I additionally disclaim any right I may have to the copyright of the text below.

The morning of 1 September dawned bright and warm over London. His trunk was packed and ready, sitting in the hallway, as it had been for the past week. Fort, his tawny owl, was sitting in her cage, pecking at a small pile of owl treats. After a couple of hours of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he got up to get changed into his muggle clothes – jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of trainers – and sat back down on his bed. He was now wished he hadn’t woken up so early: sleeping was much better than just hanging around. Eventually, at around ten o’clock, he went downstairs, to find the house in chaos.

‘James!’ his mum called as he walked down the stairs, where have you been? Go and get some breakfast.’

‘I’ve already eaten,’ James replied, earning him a raised eyebrow. ‘Where’s Dad? He said he was taking the morning off to come to the station, right?’

‘He’s with Albus,’ his mum replied, glancing at the kitchen.

Albus had been getting steadily more upset that James would be leaving as the day approached, culminating in a tantrum yesterday with him refusing to go to Kings Cross with the rest of them.

‘I’m not going, because I don’t want James to go,’ he said stubbornly, as James walked into the kitchen.

‘Come on Albus,’ his father sighed, ‘it’s only one more year, and you’ll see him at Christmas, and Easter, and the whole of summer.’

‘But that’s only three times a _year_ ,’ whined Albus.

‘And James will write, right James?’ his dad asked, looking him sharply.

‘Er, yeah. Every week if you want Al.’

That seemed to brighten Albus up enough to get him out of the front door and into the family’s battered old Land Rover Defender. They’d owned the car for as long as James could remember, but hardly ever used it. The last time had been a couple of years ago, when they all went to visit his dad’s cousin. James hadn’t liked them very much. The car was surprisingly nimble through the dense London traffic, and they arrived at King’s Cross by half past ten.

‘Isn’t it getting a bit late?’ he asked worriedly as they all clambered out of the car.

‘No, no,’ his dad replied.

They loaded all of James’ things onto a trolley, before making their way across the large paved courtyard up to the entrance into King’s Cross.

‘I think it’s this way,’ his mum said, making her way across to the right and striding through the open ticket barriers. ‘Ah yes, here we go,’ she said as they approached platform nine.

James looked at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It looked resolutely solid.

‘Come on James.’ He felt his dad grab his arm and steer him towards the barrier. ‘Best take it at a bit of a run the first time.’

They broke into a run, heading straight for the still very solid looking steel barrier which came closer and closer and closer, until all of a sudden they were on a packed platform filled with smoke and steam. In front of him was a bright scarlet steam engine bearing the name _Hogwarts Express_ on the side. Jutting out from the wrought-iron archway above him was a small sign with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

His mum, Albus, and Lily followed them through the barrier, and were now standing behind him.

‘It looks just the same,’ his mum muttered, staring at the steam engine.

‘It’s brilliant,’ his dad shot back, grinning. James felt that he shared the feeling.

Fort began hooting happily in response to the multitude of other hooting owls as they all made their way through the crowds down the platform. They passed the first four carriages, which were already full of students, and wandered down to the middle of the train. Behind him, James saw a small group of older children crowding around a boy who was eagerly digging through a purple box of the Weasley’s Snackboxes.

‘Ah, there they all are,’ Ginny said, surging ahead.

A group of eleven slowly emerged out of the fog covering the platform, half of them with bright red hair. Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur were there, with Victoire, and Uncle George and Aunt Angelina with Fred and Roxanne. They were talking to Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, who were loading Lucy’s things onto the train as her sister, Molly, looked on longingly.

‘Ginny, Harry,’ called Percy as they approached.

‘Percy, how are you?’ his dad said, walking up.

‘Could be worse,’ replied Uncle Percy. ‘We were just chatting about the election.’

‘Ah yes, of course. It’s true that Kingsley’s not staying on for another term then?’

‘Afraid so. I tried to convince him to stay on – it’s what the public seems to what, after all – but he wasn’t having it.’

They lapsed into boring conversation as James sidled around to meet his older cousins. Lucy was talking gravely to Victoire about something or the other, while Fred looked on with a vacant expression.

‘Looking forward to your first year, James?’ said Fred as he approached.

‘I think so,’ replied James.

‘It’s gonna be a great year, we’ll have a Potter back at Hogwarts, after all.’

James rolled his eyes as Victoire and Lucy turned to face them.

‘It’s alright for you, Fred, it’s not like you ever do any work anyway,’ snapped Lucy.

‘What’re you so worried about? Vic’s the one with the exams.’

Lucy huffed and jumped onto the train, leaving Fred standing on the platform with a look like he’d just been slapped.

‘Hey, Lucy, wait! What did I do?’

‘What’s wrong with Lucy?’ James asked, turning to Victoire.

She was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, complete with a gleaming blue Ravenclaw Prefect’s badge on her chest.

‘Nothing important,’ she said, waving a hand. ‘You don’t look ecstatic yourself.’

‘I’m just nervous, I guess,’ shrugged James.

Victoire laughed. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about. What is it, the sorting?’

‘No, just, you know, friends, and...’ James trailed off into a mumble about his dad.

‘You’ll be fine, James. You’re bound to be in Gryffindor, so Teddy, Fred, and Lucy’ll be around practically all the time. And if anyone does annoy you just give me a shout and we’ll see if I can’t land them in detention,’ she added with a wink.

‘Thanks,’ he replied, giving her a weak smile.

He looked back up to his mum and dad, who were now busy congratulating Bill and Fleur on Victoire’s becoming a Prefect.

‘Yes, we are very proud of ‘er. She takes after ‘er father, of course,’ Aunt Fleur was saying. ‘Naturally, zere was never any doubt. We knew ze moment she got ‘er letter what would be in eet.’

‘Shush, Mum!’ said Victoire, before reaching up to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I should get going, I’m supposed to be meeting the Head Girl.’

‘Yes, actually, you should get on as well James,’ his dad said, turning to him. ‘Now, remember not to do anything I wouldn’t do—’

His mum scoffed.

‘—and write often. Hagrid wants to meet you when you get the chance.’

‘Give Neville our love,’ his mum added.

‘And don’t let anyone get you down. Your cousins will always be around, and Teddy of course.’

The train let off a short whistle, and his mum began to load his trunk and Fort into the carriage Victoire had just disappeared into.

‘Ask them if you need anything.’

James began to climb into the train carriage just as it began to slowly pull out of the station.

‘And remember,’ his dad shouted, striding alongside the train, ‘if you get into trouble, Neville will tell us quicker than you can say “Hogwarts”!’

James stayed by the door as the wind began to whip at his face, looking at Lily running after the train, laughing with her arms outstretched. Eventually, the train gathered speed and left the station behind completely, and James began to look for a place to sit.

He found a compartment with only one other boy  in it, slumped in his seat, with his face pressed against the window. He didn’t look up when James opened the door and shoved his trunk inside before collapsing on the seat opposite. After a couple of minutes of sitting in silence, a loud squawk from Fort in response to a toad croaking somewhere else in the train finally seemed to wake the other boy up with a start.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘Sorry. It’s been a long trip.’

James looked at him quizzically.

‘I flew in from Ireland this morning.’

‘You flew?’ James asked, surprised. He had flown in his grandparent’s garden before, but an international journey was quite different. ‘Do you have a broomstick then?’

The other boy’s face fell. ‘Oh, no. Erm. I’m not actually a— well my family's not— you know,’ he leaned in conspiratorially, ‘magic.’

‘Oh, you’re a Muggle-born! That’s alright. I just thought, since you mentioned flying, you know,’ James trailed off awkwardly.

‘Yeah,’ the other boy gave a hollow laugh, ‘we flew in a plane.’

James looked at him blankly.

‘You know, an aeroplane? Big metal tube with wings sticking out of it.’

The boy mimed an aeroplane with his arms outstretched either side of his body.

‘Nevermind,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m Matthew, by the way,’ he said after a minute.

‘James,’ replied James, ‘James Potter.’

James thought he saw a flicker of recognition pass over Matthew’s face, but apparently he thought nothing of it since he continued, ‘So are all of your family wizards then?’

‘Yep,’ replied James easily, ‘I’ve got some great-aunts and uncles who are Muggles though.’

‘Wow,’ Matthew’s face held a faint trace of awe.

‘It’s nothing though, really,’ James said quickly, ‘it’s not like I know loads of magic or anything. I only got my wand a month a ago. We’re not allowed them until we come to Hogwarts.’

James’ mention of Hogwarts set off a load of questions about the castle and the school and the lessons, which he answered as well as he could having never visited the place. They talked easily as the train carried them out of London and up into the countryside.

About an hour and a half into the journey a smiling, plump woman leaned into their compartment and asked if they wanted anything from the food trolley. James glanced at Matthew who muttered something about only having ‘normal’ money. He went up to the trolley and bought a large stack of chocolate frogs, a couple of boxes of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, a bunch of Pumpkin Pasties, and collection of Cauldron Cakes.

Matthew looked curiously at the small pile of silver Sickles and bronze Kunts James had paid the lady. ‘Is that wizard money?’

‘Hm?’ said James, who was already stuffing a pasty into his mouth. ‘Oh yeah, haven’t you seen it before?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No, someone from the Ministry of Magic came to give me my letter and they took us around Diagon Alley as well. Paid for everything. Apparently there’s some kind of bursary.’

‘It’s quite simple,’ James said, pulling out one of each type of coin from his pocket. ‘There are twenty nine bronze Knuts to each silver Sickle, and seventeen Sickles to one of these golden Galleons. A Galleon’s quite a lot though, so there’s not much use having loads of them.’

Matthew looked sadly at the handful of coins. ‘I’ll bet I have loads to learn.’

‘Nah, you’ll be fine,’ replied James, ‘there are usually loads of Muggle-borns. My Aunt’s a Muggle-born and she’s the cleverest witch I know.’

‘Really?’ Matthew said, his face brightening.

‘Yeah, she works for the Ministry. Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department or something. Do you want anything?’ James added, indicating to the pile of food next to him.

‘Er, no, it’s alright.’

‘Go on, I got enough for both of us anyway,’ said James, throwing a chocolate frog at Matthew.

Matthew caught the frog, and looked at it carefully, as though it might bite him he held it wrongly. He gently unwrapped it, and pulled out the card inside, reading it out loud:

_Harry Potter (Order of Merlin, First Class), best known for his defeat of the dark wizard Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998, for which he was appointed to the Order of Merlin, is the youngest ever Head Auror. He enjoys spending time with his wife, celebrated chaser and Quidditch reporter Ginevra Weasley-Potter (Order of Merlin, Third Class), and their three children._

James felt a blush rising in his face as Matthew read out the card.

‘Wait a second,’ Matthew said slowly.

_Oh no_ , James thought. He had been quite enjoying talking to someone who didn’t realise who his dad was.

‘Your surname’s Potter,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ James mumbled in reply.

‘But, then, is he your dad?! I’ve read about him in _A Modern History of Magic_!’ Matthew rushed out, pointing at the card.

‘Yes,’ sighed James. The game was up. ‘But I don’t know anything about all that,’ he added quickly, ‘Mum and Dad hardly ever talk about the War.’

‘What’s an Auror?’ asked Matthew, looking curiously at the card.

‘Dark wizard catcher,’ James replied shortly. ‘They go after all the really dangerous criminals.’

‘They didn’t tell you anything about the War then? It seems really interest—’

‘No, they didn’t.’

‘—ing. I’m really looking forward to our Modern History lessons, I hear that they’re taught by a ghost!’

James snorted and turned to stare out of the window and watch the rolling fields and farms go past, filled with sheep and cows. Occasionally there was a glimpse of towering structures pumping out smoke and collections of little houses forming a small village. Matthew didn’t say anything for a while, and James began to feel slightly guilty for his short replies.

‘Sorry,’ Matthew said after a while, ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ James said quickly. ‘It’s not your fault. And it’s History of Magic that’s taught by a ghost, I don’t know who teaches Modern History.’

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence for a while, as the train continued to meander through the countryside. After a time, the compartment door slid open and Victoire walked in.

‘How’re you getting on?’ she said. ‘Your mum asked me to check on you.’

James flushed with embarrassment.

‘I’m fine,’ he mumbled.

‘She said to make sure you put your robes on before getting off the train.’

‘I’m quite capable of remembering to dress myself,’ snapped James.

Victoire narrowed her eyes at him.

‘I’ll bet she’s going to write to me like every day as well,’ he huffed under his breath.

‘If you’re going to take that attitude I won’t bother checking up on you,’ she snapped.

James paused, remembering her earlier promise to give detentions to anyone who annoyed him. ‘Sorry.’

‘Good. There’s nothing wrong with your parents writing to you, you know,’ she said. ‘Dad wrote to me every day in my first year.’

‘Uncle Bill? Really?’ James said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh yeah, even more than Grandma Delacour. Who’s your friend?’ she added, looking curiously at Matthew.

Matthew, who had, until now, been staring at her, blinked for a moment. ‘Oh, erm, Matthew Reed.’

‘Nice to meet you, Matthew Reed,’ she replied, grabbing a Cauldron Cake from the pile next to James. ‘She also wanted me to remind you that Professor Hagrid and Professor Longbottom both wanted to see you, and you’re not to go wandering off on your own and getting into trouble. And also not to spend all your money in one go,’ she added, looking pointedly at the pile of food.

‘I remember, I remember,’ said James, rolling his eyes.

‘Don’t you roll your eyes at me,’ she said mock-seriously, ‘or I’ll put _you_ in detention.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Do you want to test me?’

‘No,’ James said quickly. He wouldn’t put it past her to give him a detention.

‘Good,’ she said, before a sudden ruckus from further down the carriage distracted her. She ran off muttering something about those ‘bloody Slytherins’.

‘Who was that?’ Matthew said, staring at the doorway where Victoire had just been standing.

‘She’s my cousin,’ James said, waving a hand at the door and helping himself to another Pumpkin Pasty.

‘Some cousin,’ he said, though James had no idea what he meant. ‘What did she mean “Professor Hagrid and Professor Longbottom want to see you”?’

‘Hagrid’s the Groundskeeper. He also teaches Care of Magical Creatures, I think. He knew my dad.’

‘Oh. Professor Longbottom is the Deputy Headmaster, isn’t he? My letter was from him.’

‘Yeah, he went to school with Mum and Dad.’

‘Woah. So you’re, like, really well connected then?’

‘Please don’t remind me,’ said James.

They carried on talking as the sky outside grew steadily darker. First with clouds and rain as they progressed steadily northwards, and then with the setting Sun. The train flew past the heaths and moors, occasionally passing a large lake or mountain. Eventually, an announcement rang out through the train:

‘We shall be arriving at Hogsmeade station in ten minutes. Coaches will be provided to carry students to school. First years are reminded that they are to wait for the Groundskeeper and are not to take the coaches. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.’

James glanced at Matthew, who had blanched at the thought of actually arriving at Hogwarts.

‘C’mon, we _should_ probably get dressed,’ said James, pulling his robes out of his trunk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third chapter, so you're all caught up with FFN now. The fourth one will be out on Saturday.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all the characters, setting, and plot thereof, belong to JK Rowling. I additionally disclaim any right I may have to the copyright of the text below.

They jumped off the train onto the tiny, dimly lit platform that was Hogsmeade station, as a gruff, booming voice called from the far end of the platform:

‘Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here! All right Lucy, Fred?’ Hagrid shouted out to James’ two cousins, as they hurried to meet the horseless coaches. ‘Victoire, congratulations on makin’ Prefect, knew you ‘ad in in yeh!’

‘Thanks Hagrid!’ she replied, before hopping into a coach.

‘James!’ Hagrid boomed suddenly, making Matthew jump beside him. ‘Yeh all right?’

‘Hey Hagrid,’ replied James.

‘Righ’ then, follow me firs’-years. Down the steps ‘ere to the boats.’

They all followed Hagrid down the slippery steps down to the edge of the vast, black lake. There was a little hut ahead, with fifteen or so little wooden boats moored outside it.

‘If yeh look across the Lake, yeh’ll be able ter see yer firs’ look at Hogwarts,’ Hagrid called out, making his way down to the boathouse.

There were many ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as they turned the corner and saw a glittering castle covered with many turrets and battlements, on the opposite side of the lake. They all climbed into a boat – four in each – and then set off across the glistening surface. James was sat with Matthew, a red haired girl who was jabbering rapidly about Hogwarts, and a boy with curly black hair and a bored expression on his face.

They ducked as the fleet of boats passed under a rocky outcrop and into an underground tunnel of some kind. Eventually, the boats all stopped at a bit of rock sticking out from the cave wall, which seemed to form a kind of makeshift underground harbour.

‘Righ’ then, get out and we’ll head up to the Great ‘All fer yer sorting.’

They followed Hagrid along another slippery path which wound its way along the edge of the cave and up to a large set of double doors. Hagrid knocked on them twice, and they swung open, revealing a tall man with a cheerful, friendly face. He was dressed all in crimson robes, carrying a battered old hat under his arm.

‘Professor Longbottom,’ said Hagrid, ‘the firs’ years.’

‘Thank you, Professor Hagrid,’ he said, ‘head on up to the Hall. I’ll take them from here.’

Hagrid hurried off up the sweeping marble staircase to the right of the Entrance Hall as Professor Longbottom ushered them all across the Hall to the vast set of double doors opposite.

‘Right then, through here is the Great Hall,’ he said, ‘where you’ll all be sorted into your Houses. Consider your Houses to be like your families while you’re at Hogwarts. You’ll sleep in the House dormitories, eat with your House, and spend much of your free time in the House common rooms. Teachers can give you House points for your triumphs, whilst they can be taken away for any rule-breaking. Your House Prefects will be able to guide you and answer any questions you may have, as can your Heads of House. I am Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Flitwick is Head of Ravenclaw House, Professor Fletchley for Hufflepuff, and Professor Venenum for Slytherin.’

‘Sorted? Isn’t it just random?’ Matthew whispered to James.

‘No. They put that hat on your head and it shouts out which House you’ll be in,’ James replied, pointing at the battered hat Professor Longbottom was holding.

Matthew huffed and looked away. Evidently, he had taken James’ reply to be sarcasm, which was really fair enough, all things considered.

‘All ready?’ Professor Longbottom said, gaining a few murmurs of assent in response. ‘Well then, in we go.’

He waved his wand, and the huge doors in front of them swung open, revealing the most magnificent hall imaginable. Along its length were four enormous tables, full of chattering students who fell silent as Professor Longbottom passed them. James spotted Fred, Lucy, and Teddy at the Gryffindor table and gave them a nervous wave.

‘Where’s the ceiling?!’ Matthew said suddenly, in a shocked voice.

James looked up, past the thousands of floating candles which lit the Hall, at the roof. It was a dark shade of blue, with wisps of cloud rolling over it, occasionally masking the twinkling stars.

‘It’s not real,’ replied James. ‘It must just be enchanted or something.’

‘Mind that tile!’ came a shout from Professor Longbottom at the front, as he stepped around a darker coloured slab of stone set in the floor. ‘If you stand on it Professor Rumina will be predicting your death for the next seven years.’

James looked down at the tile as he walked past, and saw with a jolt of surprise that it was inscribed:

_On this spot on the second day of May, 1998, the dark wizard Voldemort was defeated by Hogwarts student, Harry James Potter. This stone remains here as a commemoration, and as a reminder of the sixty-one Hogwarts students and teachers who lost their lives during the Battle of Hogwarts._

As he passed it, he heard someone snort behind him. It was a tall boy, with short dark brown hair and a gaunt, angular face. He was pointing at the slab and laughing. James frowned before quickly looking back. Eventually, everyone came to stop in front of a rickety little stool, on top of which Professor Longbottom placed the hat. Matthew glanced at James side-on. Suddenly, a rip near the brim of the hat opened wide, and it began to sing.

_I’m sure you think I’m tatty, torn, and old,  
_ _But you mustn’t judge on what you see,  
_ _For I’m sure you’ll never find a smarter hat than me._

_Now I’ll tell you that there’s nothing I can’t see,  
_ _Inside your head there’s nothing ‘scured from me,  
_ _Since I must tell you where you ought to be._

_It might be Gryffindor for you,  
_ _If you’re daring, brave, and strong;  
_ _Or perhaps in Hufflepuff,  
_ _For the patient, just, and loyal._

_Yet still maybe it’s Ravenclaw,  
_ _Where they’re wise and of an open mind;  
_ _Or maybe you’ll fit in Slytherin,  
_ _With those cunning, zealous folk._

_So in short just try me on,  
_ _For there is no need to fear me,  
_ _I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!_

As the Hat finished, the whole Hall burst into applause. James turned to see Matthew gaping at the Hat, mouthing silently.

‘I thought you were joking,’ he whispered.

After a few seconds the Hall fell silent again, and Professor Longbottom pulled out a roll of parchment from his robes.

‘I’ll call your name, and then you’ll sit on the stool and be sorted,’ he called. ‘Abbott, William!’

A little boy with blonde hair stumbled past James and Matthew and clambered up onto the stool. Professor Longbottom dropped the hat over his head, and it fell down so that it covered his whole face, causing a small titter of laughter.

‘GRYFFINDOR!’ shouted the Hat, after a moment’s pause.

The Gryffindor table erupted in applause, clearly pleased to get the first new student. James watched as William half-ran across the hall and seated himself next to Teddy.

‘Avery, Marcus!’

The Hall fell silent again as the tall, gaunt boy who had been laughing earlier sauntered up to the stool. The Hat fell down on top of Marcus Avery’s head, and in even less time than it had taken for William Abbott, it screamed:

‘SLYTHERIN!’

The Slytherin table cheered loudly this time. Next, ‘Blishwick, Amy’ was sorted into Gryffindor. ‘Bott, Isobel’ then became Hufflepuff’s first new student. A Brown and a Burke went to Slytherin, followed by Fawley, Fletcher, and Forsby to Ravenclaw. Hesper Greengrass ended up in Slytherin after a full minute and half’s deliberation, and then Louise Jacobs went to Hufflepuff.

‘Johnson, Ruby!’

The red haired girl who had been with James and Matthew on the boat went up to the stool, and put on the Hat.

‘RAVENCLAW!’ came the call.

‘Lestrange, Rebecca.’

A deathly silence fell over the entire Hall. James looked up to see that Professor Longbottom had turned a shade of white, and a blonde haired girl with large brown eyes was shuffling up to the stool.

‘What is it? What happened?’ asked Matthew, in a barely audible whisper.

‘Lestrange,’ said someone on the other side of Matthew. ‘She must be related to her...’

‘Who’s _her_?’ said Matthew, now utterly confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Not now,’ hissed James in response.

James glanced around as Rebecca Lestrange sat down on the stool, looking thoroughly miserable. Nearly everyone else in the Hall had stopped their conversations and turned to look at the front, with only a few Muggle-born first-years looking around and whispering confusedly.

Professor Longbottom gingerly lowered the Hat onto Rebecca’s head, and it had barely grazed the top of her hair before screaming:

‘GRYFFINDOR!’

There was silence. Rebecca looked like she was about to cry. Then, a single person started clapping from on the High Table. It was Professor McGonagall. The rest of the Hall followed suit, breaking out into scattered applause as Professor Longbottom directed the now-crying Rebecca towards the Gryffindor table after whispering something in her ear.

The sorting continued uneventfully after that, with James feeling steadily more sick as his name approached. Gryffindor also gained Alex Macmillan and Sinead O’Hare; whilst Hufflepuff got David Matthews (the sullen boy with curly hair from James’ boat), Natalie McCormack, and Madeline Midgen. Annabelle Max and Frank McDougal ended up in Ravenclaw, and Ella Parkinson became the fifth Slytherin. Then, finally:

‘Potter, James!’

A different kind of hush fell over the Hall this time. Whereas before it had been dark and brooding, now it was as if the whole place was waiting with baited breath. It didn’t make James feel any better. And then:

‘GO ON JAMES!’ came a yell from the Gryffindor table, followed by a ripple of laughter.

‘Yes, thank you for your input, Mr Weasley,’ Professor Longbottom called out sternly.

Feeling much better, thanks to Fred’s pronouncement, James sat on the stool as the Hat was dropped over his head.

‘Ah!’ the Hat shouted, causing James to jump. ‘Another Potter. Oh— a Potter _and_ a Weasley. Well, there’s really not much choice here, is there? GRYFFINDOR!’

The Hat shouted the last word to the entire Hall, causing the Gryffindor table to erupt. Professor Longbottom whipped the Hat off his head and whispered ‘Congratulations, James’ into his ear.

Now smiling broadly, he made his way down between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, stopping to wave at Victoire, who winked in reply. He passed Rebecca Lestrange, who was sitting on her own at the end of the Gryffindor table, and James realised with a momentary pang of guilt that the empty seats around her hadn’t been empty at the start of the Sorting. Eventually he sat down between Teddy and Lucy, opposite Fred.

‘Never any doubt,’ Teddy said, beaming.

James craned his neck to look up at the High Table, which could only see properly now that he was sat down. He spotted Hagrid at the far left end, dwarfing the tiny man next him that James knew to be Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Next to Flitwick was a vaguely familiar teacher dressed in pale yellow robes, and then another in austere black. Then there was an empty chair, where Professor Longbottom presumably sat, and then, right in the middle, was Professor McGonagall. James knew her from his parent’s stories, and she didn’t look like she had changed one bit. She was still draped in emerald green robes, wearing a tall pointed hat with large brim. James also spotted Gawain Roberts, his dad’s former boss, who was presumably teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, surveying the Hall with a stern expression.

Whilst James had been inspecting the teachers, Gryffindor had gained Nathan Prewett, whilst his brother, Benedict, went to Hufflepuff.

‘Prince, Sadie!’

‘SLYTHERIN!’

‘Reed, Matthew!’

James looked up at Matthew, who had now turned a delicate shade of green. A moment later:

‘GRYFFINDOR!’

James clapped loudly with the rest of the table as Matthew came over and sat down next to Fred. They all turned to watch the final few people get sorted. Slytherin got Miranda Rosier and Loretta Travers, while Hufflepuff gained Charles Selwyn and Hector Travers, and Ravenclaw got Stewart Thompson and Lucy Winters.

‘Now then!’ called Professor McGonagall after Professor Longbottom had cleared away the stool and hat. ‘Now then!’ she called again as the Hall fell back into an expectant silence. ‘Before we start, I have two introductions to make:

‘Firstly, I want to welcome our new Potions Master, Professor Venenum,’ there was scattered applause as the austere man raised a hand in acknowledgement. ‘Professor Venenum has had a long and successful career as a Healer and working for the Ministry’s Office for the Development of Experimental Remedies, and we are delighted to have him join us here.

‘Next, I am happy to welcome back Madam Tattel, who has once again agreed to manage our own Inter-House Quidditch tournament. Any student wishing to tryout for their House teams should contact her or their House Captains.’ Madam Tattel got a much louder round of applause than Professor Venenum, mostly due to her friendly smile. ‘That is all.’

Professor McGonagall sat back down, and the dishes in front of James miraculously filled with piles of food. There was roast beef, gammon, chicken, potatoes cooked in every possible way (sauteed, roasted, boiled, baked, mashed...), savoury pies filled with steak, or vegetables, or pork, large boats filled to the brim with simmering gravy, burgers, sausages, mountains of peas and carrots...

James spooned out some potatoes and roast beef onto his plate, and looked up in amusement as Matthew began piling his plate high with legs of roast chicken.

‘Wha’?’ he said, mouth already full of potatoes. ‘I’m ‘arving!’

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re going to choke on all that food if you don’t slow down, you know. The banquet goes on for a two full hours, there’s plenty of time to try everything.’

As she said it, Matthew began to cough violently, spewing bits of potato everywhere. Just as he began to turn blue, Teddy pointed his wand at his throat and muttered anapneo, clearing his throat instantly.

‘Thanks,’ he said, gasping.

‘No worries,’ replied Teddy, cleaning up the bits of potato with his wand. ‘It happens to at least one person each year.’

James had always been used to having Kreacher whip up culinary wonders at a moment’s notice, and of course the legendary cooking of Grandma Weasley, so he’d never really considered anyone being as shocked as Matthew was at the sheer quantity of food.

‘How do they make all this food?’ Matthew asked, taking a much more modest bite of chicken.

‘I heard they have thousands of house-elves down in the kitchens,’ piped Alex Macmillan from the other side of Teddy.

‘Not _thousands_ ,’ replied Lucy scathingly. ‘Maybe a hundred or so.’

‘What’re house-elves?’ asked Matthew, looking blankly around.

‘We’ve got one at home,’ replied James, ‘they’re a bit like goblins, except they really like to work. It’s like their entire purpose in life.’

‘You’ve got a _house-elf_?’ Alex exclaimed, now leaning across Teddy.

James blushed. ‘Er, yeah.’

‘What? What’s wrong with having a house-elf?’ asked Matthew curiously.

‘Well—’

‘Nothing,’ snapped Teddy quickly, cutting Alex off. ‘Free ones—’

He was cut off by a loud scream from the other end of the table. James looked up to see a dozen pearly-white ghosts streaming through the walls of the Great Hall. They soared across the Hall, some going straight for a particular table, and some just gliding around aimlessly.

‘New Gryffindors! Good to see you all in the clearly superior House,’ said one ghost wearing a neat little ruff.

‘Sir Nicholas,’ Teddy called out, ‘it’s good to see you. Have you managed to get into the Headless Hunt yet?’

‘Alas, no,’ replied Sir Nicholas. ‘I am still “insufficiently decapitated”, as they so eloquently put it.’

He looked very put-out by this.

‘“Insufficiently decapitated?”’ said Alex. ‘What does that even mean?’

Sir Nicholas fixed Alex in a deadpan stare, and pulled on one of his ears. All the first-years along the table gasped as his head flopped off his shoulders, dangling by only a few inches of skin.

‘Ah,’ said Alex, looking a bit green.

An hour or so later, once everyone was feeling thoroughly stuffed, the food vanished from the table. Not a moment later, they were replaced with piles and piles of puddings. Huge blocks of ice cream held in crystal trays and towers of profiteroles were stacked up next to pies of every imaginable kind. Treacle tarts, sticky toffee pudding, apple pie, doughnuts, chocolate fountains, strawberries, bread and butter pudding, jelly, trifles...

‘Are you all James’ family then?’ asked Matthew, taking a slice of apple pie and ladeling custard over it.

James laughed. He had clearly been holding that one in for a while.

‘Yeah, Lucy’s my cousin, and so is Fred,’ he replied. ‘Teddy’s my—’

‘Fourth cousin once removed,’ offered Teddy promptly.

‘—godbrother. Also my fourth cousin once whatever.’

‘Your what?’

‘Teddy is James’ godbrother,’ Lucy explained, ‘but all wizarding families are interrelated really, so Teddy’s Great-great-great-great-grandfather – did I get that right?’

‘Yep.’

‘So Teddy’s Great-great-great-great-great-grandfather is—’

‘No, you got it wrong that time. There are four “great”s.’

‘Oh, sorry. So Teddy’s Great-great-great-great-grandfather is our,’ Lucy gestured at James, Fred, and herself, ‘Great-great-great-grandfather – that’s three “great”s – hence fourth cousins, once removed.’

Matthew blinked at them. ‘Blimey. How many cousins do you have?!’

‘Er, well, there’s Lucy’s sister, Molly—’ James began.

‘She’s starting next year,’ said Lucy.

‘—and Fred’s sister, Roxanne—’

‘Also starting next year,’ said Fred.

‘—and there’s Rose and Hugo, they’re brother and sister. And you’ve already met Victoire,’ James gestured at the Ravenclaw table, ‘she’s got a sister—’

‘Dominique,’ offered Teddy.

‘—who’s at Beauxbatons this year, and a brother—’

‘Louis.’

‘—who’s only five, so nine in total,’ James finished. ‘Oh, and there’s Albus and Lily, my brother and sister.’

‘I’ve got three,’ said Matthew blankly.

Eventually, the puddings also vanished from sight, but only after James had eaten enough for for what felt like at least three lifetimes. Professor McGonagall stood up again as the last vestiges of the feast disappeared from the plates and cutlery.

‘A few more announcements now that we’ve all eaten.

‘Mr Filch has asked me to remind you, for what he claims is the five hundred and thirteenth time, that no magic is allowed in the corridors between lessons, and that an exhaustive list of items are banned. Additionally, I would have thought it would be obvious, but past experience has taught me better, the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden. Students are not to enter it under any circumstances. Finally, I remind all of our first-years that Muggle technology,’ she said the word like she had swallowed a particularly sour sherbet lemon, ‘does not function in the vicinity of Hogwarts. Please do not bother your Prefects with inane questions about why you cannot use it. It will work perfectly fine again upon your departure from Hogwarts.’

There was a pause, and James spotted an auburn haired first-year (Sinead, he remembered from the Sorting) pull out something from her pocket and frown at it.

‘Now, as you all know, each year two of the best students from each House are selected by the Heads of House and myself to be House Prefects for the remainder of their stay at Hogwarts. This year’s selection was as hard to decide on as ever, but decide we have done. So, a round of applause, please, for:

‘Holly Ryedale and Jason Shuttleworth, the new Gryffindor Prefects.’

The Gryffindors clapped Holly and Jason, who James spotted sitting at the far end of the table, by the main doors.

‘For Ravenclaw, Victoire Weasley and Sanjay Patil.’

James, Lucy, Fred, and Teddy all turned to clap Victoire, who was positively glowing with pride.

‘For Hufflepuff, Kameko Minami and Patrick Loughton.’

The Hufflepuff table burst into applause.

‘And for Slytherin, Kendra Flint and Septimus Borgan.’

The Slytherins all clapped and stamped, clearly determined to be the loudest table.

‘And a round of applause for our new Head Girl, Tabitha Denholm of Slytherin, and Head Boy, Peter Sutan of Hufflepuff.’

By now, James’ hand were sore from all the clapping, and he was starting to feel warm and sleepy.

‘Now then, off to bed. Lessons start at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Your timetables will be waiting for you in your dormitories.’

The Hall erupted in noise as the great doors swung open. James could vaguely hear the distant shouts of the new Gryffindor Prefects as they tried to chaperone the first-years out.

‘You better follow Holly and Jason,’ said Teddy, when James tried to follow him, Lucy, and Fred instead, ‘go on.’

Reluctantly, James followed Matthew and the rest of the first years out of the Hall in a long column lead by Holly. She lead them up staircase after staircase, through a doorway hidden behind a tapestry that vanished as they stepped through it, up more staircases, through some more hidden doorways, round a corner, through an empty hallway, and up one more staircase, until they finally stopped at a portrait of a very fat woman with black hair, wearing a pink frilly dress. James had a sudden flashback to the dress worn by the frog-woman toys in Uncle George and Uncle Ron’s shop.

‘Password?’ asked the portrait.

Matthew jumped. ‘They can talk?’

‘ _Fremitus leonis_ ,’ replied Holly, and the swung forward, revealing a doorway.

They all clambered through, and emerged into Gryffindor common room. It was a round room, with a fireplace, and scattered with little tables and squashy armchairs.

‘First year girls are through here,’ Holly said, pointing at one of the doorways out of the room, ‘and boys up there.’

They all hurried up to their rooms. On each of their beds was a timetable for the next day, and a red and yellow striped tie. James didn’t bother checking them, but quickly changed into his pyjamas and collapsed onto the warm bed.

 

 


	5. Broomsticks and Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all the characters, setting, and plot thereof, belong to JK Rowling. I additionally disclaim any right I may have to the copyright of the text below.

It turned out that their first lesson was Herbology, in Greenhouse One, on the other side of the Castle. James and Matthew burst through the door, five minutes late, just as Professor Longbottom was going through the register.

‘James—’ he said, looking down his list, ‘and Matthew Reed. You got lost, I take it?’

James nodded mutely.

‘Not to worry. Take a seat next to, erm,’ he paused, looking up the length of the greenhouse. ‘Rebecca, at the end there.’

James glanced sideways at Matthew, who shrugged, and they made their way to the far end of the greenhouse as Professor Longbottom continued the register.

‘You sure you want to sit there?’ asked Matthew.

‘I don’t think we’ve got much choice,’ replied James, glanced around.

James had told Matthew about the Lestrange family at breakfast that morning, after they had spotted Rebecca sitting on her own at the end of the Gryffindor table. It turned out that Bellatrix Lestrange had an entire chapter dedicated to her in _A Modern History of Magic_ , and Matthew was shocked to find out that it was James’ grandmother who had finally killed her next to one of windows by the Ravenclaw table.

‘What about next to that Ruby girl?’ Matthew pointed at Ruby Johnson.

‘There’s only one seat,’ James pointed out.

Just as at the start of term feast, it appeared that no-one wanted to sit next to Rebecca Lestrange. James sat down in the seat next her.

‘Good morning,’ he said carefully.

‘Hello,’ she replied stiffly, not turning to look at him.

‘Herbology,’ began Professor Longbottom, ‘is the study of magical plants, herbs, crops, and fungi. Who here can tell me why the study of these things is useful for a witch or wizard?’

He looked out expectantly and beamed when half a dozen hands shot up, followed by a few more tentative ones.

‘I think Miss Johnson was first,’ said Professor Longbottom.

‘Magical plants and fungi have many important uses in medicine and potions-making and the study of the magical properties of trees is a vital part of wandlore.’

She had said it all in one breath.

‘Excellent answer, Miss Johnson. Five points to, ah—’

‘Ravenclaw, sir.’

‘Five points to Ravenclaw then. In your First Year we’ll be looking at a wide variety of plants, from the everyday asphodel to the more dangerous Devil’s Snare, and even the Venomous Tentacula. However, Herbology is not just textbooks and essays – in my lessons you will be dealing with plants in a practical manner, so you need to come here with your magical hats firmly _on_. Even relatively benign plants, such as the Bouncing Bulb, can be dangerous if you don’t know how to deal with them. Does anyone know how to deal with an aggrieved Bouncing Bulb?’

This time Ruby’s was the only hand to go up.

‘Flippendo can be used to repel a young Bouncing Bulb, but more mature ones require the use of Incendio.’

‘Excellent. Take another five points for Ravenclaw.’

The other Ravenclaws grinned, clearly happy that they had just managed to get ten points in the space of five minutes.

‘But as this is your first ever Hogwarts lesson,’ continued Professor Longbottom, ‘and you are yet to learn any magic, we’ll be studying something much more ordinary.’

James looked at the green plant with furry leaves in front of him.

‘ _Urtica diocia_ , the stinging nettle. Can anyone tell me—’

Ruby’s hand shot up.

‘Careful, Ruby, or you’ll have me giving more points to Ravenclaw than to my own House,’ laughed Professor Longbottom. The other Gryffindors along the table looked less amused.

‘Nettles are a common plant found all over Britain. They are used in a wide variety of potions, including the boil-curing potion and the herbicide potion,’ she recited.

‘Another five points to Ravenclaw. As you can see, I’ve laid out a single plant for each of you,’ he gestured up the length of the table. ‘Today, we’ll be studying the properties of nettle-venom which, as Ruby has told us, is used in the boil-curing potion Professor Venenum tells me you will be making later this week. Instructions for extracting the venom are on your tables. Work on your own, please – it shouldn’t take you longer than an hour, and then we’ll spend the final half an hour talking about what you’ve found.’

They all began. It was rather dull work, but Professor Longbottom kept them entertained with stories about various magical plants he had encountered as they went along. James stared very hard at the glass pipe through which his impure nettle-juice was decanting when he began a story about gillyweed that somehow involved his father, mermaids, and the Black Lake. Eventually, at nearly ten to eleven, he stopped them all.

‘Well, we seem to have run over a bit,’ he said. ‘Not to worry. Everyone pour your nettle-venom into a phial and label it; we’ll carry on on Thursday. You might as well go off to your next lesson now.’

Their next lesson was Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick. He instructed his lessons as though he was the conductor of an orchestra, standing atop a tall pile of books. He talked for almost the entire hour about the intricate differences between Charms and Transfiguration, and then squeaked and nearly fell off his books when he checked the time, before sending them off to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Roberts was a very stern man, who walked with a slight limp and somehow managed to keep even the Slytherins quiet without even uttering a single word. The lesson itself was very boring, with Professor Roberts having them practise firing red and green sparks from their wands. They ended the day with the promise of a more interesting lesson on curses and jinxes come Thursday.

History of Magic on Tuesday was by far their dullest subject, taught by Professor Binns. Matthew gaped openly when he first saw that Professor Binns was truly a ghost, but the novelty soon wore off as he began a two hour lecture on the wizards of the Ancient times. After History of Magic was the subject James had been most dreading: Modern History. It was taught by Professor Fletchley – the teacher who had been dressed in pale yellow robes at the Sorting – who had also been in James’ Dad’s year at Hogwarts. Luckily, they began by talking about Gellert Grindelwald, and Professor Fletchley assured James that they wouldn’t be talking about Voldemort and Harry Potter until Second Year.

Modern History was followed by Magical Theory, which was almost as dull as History of Magic. It was taught by Professor Notatus, who looked even more bored by the subject than her students.

‘Apparently she’s the Arithmancy teacher,’ whispered Alex Macmillan, another Gryffindor, after the lesson. ‘It must be as dull for her as it is for us.’

Wednesday morning was home to their first Transfiguration lesson, taught by Professor O’Connor. She was a tall witch with a friendly round face, but she wasted no time in letting them know she considered Transfiguration to be the most difficult subject taught at Hogwarts. Then she made Matthew’s desk turn into a horse and had it gallop out into the Forest, which impressed everyone thoroughly. They quickly realised, however, that they would not be doing so much as turning a pen into an earthworm for quite some time. By the end of the lesson, only Ruby Johnson and Rebecca Lestrange had managed to turn their matchsticks into needles.

Thursday morning was a momentous occasion for James and Matthew: their first day waking up on time for the morning post. It was truly a sight to behold, as a hundred owls soared into the Great Hall through the open windows, circling overhead and dropping letter and parcels into their owners’ laps. It turned out to be lucky that James was there that morning, because a large eagle-owl landed on next to him and dropped a letter onto his toast.

‘Who’s that from?’ asked Matthew, looking over.

‘Dunno,’ said James, wiping jam off the envelope before ripping it open.

It turned out to be from Hagrid:

_Dear James,_

_Why don’t you drop by before dinner on Saturday. Say around eleven? Let me know if you’re busy._

_Hagrid_

James scrawled a quick ‘Yes, I’d love to’ in reply on the back of the letter, and sent it back with the same owl.

That afternoon came with the promise of their first Potions lesson with Professor Venenum, the austere ex-Healer and Head of Slytherin House. Despite his external appearance, he turned out to be an interesting man, who gave them lots of facts about their boil-curing potion as they brewed it, and complimented Ruby on hers so profusely that she blushed a deep shade of red to match her hair.

#

The next day, all anyone could talk about was their flying lesson that afternoon. Matthew, who had never even seen a broomstick before, let alone ridden one, began to look very pale by the end of Transfiguration.

‘ _Aci Verto_ ,’ he muttered, whipping his wand at the match on his desk.

The match promptly set on fire.

‘You need to calm down,’ snapped Ruby, who, for some reason, had decided to sit herself next to them. ‘It’s Ac- _oo_ -i Ver-to, not Acci Verdo, and you’re moving your wand all wrong. See: _Acui Verto_.’

She moved her wand with a slight flourish at the end, and her match promptly transformed into a shining needle, complete with eyelet.

With that, Professor O’Connor dismissed them, once again complimenting Ruby on her work. James and Matthew rushed out of the classroom, hurrying along the corridor towards where their flying lesson would taking place. Just as they turned to go out into the courtyard, a tall Slytherin ran straight into James, knocking him to the floor.

‘Watch yourself, Potter,’ he spat.

‘You alright?’ asked Matthew, running down and helping James collect his things.

‘Yeah. Just some Slytherin.’

‘Marcus Avery,’ said Matthew grimly, ‘he’s a right git. Made Ruby cry at the end of Potions yesterday.’

‘Really?’ said James.

‘Yeah, said something about mud. It was weird. I mean, she’s an insufferable know-it-all and everything, but making her cry’s a bit much, you know...’

They made their way out into the smooth-lawned courtyard where they would be learning to fly. James saw that Marcus and the rest of the Slytherins who had barged past were already here, standing by the best brooms.

‘Gather round everyone, and stand by a broom,’ Madam Tattel called out as they approached.

There was a mad scramble, at the end of which James was left standing opposite Marcus, with a slightly battered looking Comet Two Sixty.

‘Before we start, I want you all to know that flying is perfectly safe. If you fear flying, you will hurt yourself; if you do not, your broom will obey you perfectly.’

James glanced sideways at Matthew, who had begun to turn green.

‘Now, hold your hand out over your broom, and say “Up!”’

James’ broom jumped up immediately, as did Marcus’ and a handful of other people’s. Matthew’s broom remained firmly planted on the ground; though some others’ had at least rolled over.

‘Not to worry, very few people get it the first time,’ reassured Madam Tattel. ‘Try again.’

Five minutes and several attempts later, everyone (even Matthew) had managed to call up their brooms. Madam Tattel showed them all how to mount them and grip the end so that you wouldn’t fall off when you were flying.

‘We’ll start simple. When I blow whistle, I want you all to kick off from the ground, and hold _steady_. Hover for a few seconds, and then lean forward to land.’

James gripped his broom and kicked off when she blew the whistle. He pulled up gently on the handle of his broom and hovered about three feet off the ground. Suddenly, there was a shout and a muffled _thump_ from next to him. He looked around wildly, expecting to see Matthew on the floor. To his surprise, Matthew was hovering just next to him, with a grin etched on his face.

‘Alex just fell off his broom,’ he said.

James craned his neck and, indeed, saw Alex Macmillan lying in a heap on the floor.

‘He can’t be that badly hurt. We’re only a few feet off the ground.’

‘Nah, I reckon he’ll be fine,’ said Matthew. ‘You should’ve seen it though. He slid right off the end.’

Madam Tattel blew her whistle again, and they all landed. ‘That was very good, mostly,’ she said with a glance at Alex, who looked down at his feet. ‘Now I think it’s best if we split up. Hands up if you have flown before.’

Eleven people put their hands up, including James.

‘No, Alex, I think it’s best if you stay here with the non-flyers for now,’ James heard Madam Tattel say, causing a titter of laughter. ‘Okay, you ten pair up with the person opposite you. I want you to fly a small loop around the Owlery Tower and come back here. Keep low to the ground and _don’t_ stray off course, I will be able to see you.’

James looked over at Marcus.

‘Ladies first, Potter,’ he sneered.

James shrugged and kicked off, feeling the wind rush past his face as he swept around the courtyard before pulling up and away. The Owlery Tower was on top of a rocky hill out in the castle grounds, glinting the in the afternoon sun. Just as he was reaching the Tower he heard a whistling sound from behind him. There was a _crash_ as Marcus rammed straight into the side of his broom. The air whipped around his robes as his broom tumbled down and hurtled off course, while James held on for dear life. He saw the ground rush up to meet him and managed to pull up, hard. With no more than a foot to spare, the broom creaked and groaned and then finally levelled out. He saw Marcus up ahead, zooming around the Tower. James grunted and leaned forward, hurtling after him, but it was no use: Marcus had the slightly better broom.

He dropped his broom the moment they had landed back at the courtyard, and marched towards Marcus, not quite what he would do he he got to him. But before he could do anything, the scene in front of him caught his eye. The non-flyers were crowded in a semi-circle around Madam Tattel, who looked absolutely livid, yelling at Alex Macmillan. James had never seen a teacher so angry before. Rebecca was lying on the floor next to them, her face tear-streaked and clutching her arm.

‘Never, _never_ , in all my years,’ she shouted, whilst Alex looked straight at her, stony faced. ‘You could have killed her!’

‘What happened?’ asked James, finding Matthew in the crowd.

‘He cursed her, while we were doing a loop of the courtyard.’

‘Using a _Knockback Jinx_ on someone who’s twenty feet in the air! You are coming with me now, to see the Headmistress, and I would be surprised if she doesn’t expel you _on the spot_.’

Just then the matron, Madam Abbott, came rushing down into the courtyard. ‘What happened?’ she demanded, looking from Alex, to Madam Tattel, to Rebecca.

‘Broken arm and leg, along with some bruises, Hannah,’ replied Madam Tattel.

Madam Abbott nodded and flicked her wand in the direction of Rebecca. A stretcher appeared under her, and she levitated it away, following behind like a conductor.

‘Class dismissed,’ barked Madam Tattel. She waved her wand and all the brooms immediately flew away towards the storage shed. ‘You, with me,’ she said, jabbing her wand at Alex.

#

Alex wasn’t back when James and Matthew returned to the Common Room after dinner. The events of their flying lesson had, however, rapidly made the rounds, and it seemed to be all anyone could talk about. Matthew, who had been the only other Gryffindor to witness it, was bombarded with questions the moment they walked in.

‘Is it true?’

‘Has he been suspended?’

‘What happened?’

‘I heard he used the Cruciatus Curse!’

‘Er,’ Matthew laughed, ‘it was a Knockback Jinx, I think. We were just flying around, and then there was a crash and next thing we knew Madam Tattel was yelling at Alex.’

‘I wonder what Professor McGonagall will do...’

‘Do you think he’ll be expelled?’

‘Can you even expel a first-year?’

James and Matthew escaped the crowded Common Room and questions by going up to the first-year dormitory.

‘Why do you think he did it?’ asked Matthew, sitting on his bed.

‘I dunno...’ James paused. ‘Marcus tried to knock me off my broom as well,’ he said.

Matthew looked up at him. ‘Really?’

Just then Fred burst in. ‘James! Are you all right? We just found out.’ He was followed in short order by Lucy.

‘ _I_ wasn’t the one who was jinxed,’ James pointed out.

He stopped to catch his breath. Apparently he’d run all the way up the tower. ‘No, clearly. Who was?’

‘Rebecca. Lestrange,’ he added in response to Fred’s quizzical look.

‘Just her?’

James raised an eyebrow.

‘You weren’t the one who had to get the news from Lucy!’ he said. ‘The way she was going on about it you’d have thought there was some nutter going around jinxing first-years. Who did it? Was it M—’

‘It was Alex Macmillan, wasn’t it James?’ said Lucy, cutting Fred off with a sharp look.

‘Yes,’ it was Matthew who replied. ‘But we still don’t know why he did it.’

‘Macmillan?’ asked Fred.

‘Yes...’ said James.

Lucy and Fred exchanged a dark glance, before she sat down next to James.

‘You’ve got your Modern History textbook, right?’ said Lucy. ‘Check the chapter on Bellatrix Lestrange.’

‘We already did,’ said James.

‘Did you read all the way to the end?’

They hadn’t. Fred and Matthew looked over his shoulder while James pulled open his copy of _A Modern History of Magic_. At the end of the chapter on Bellatrix Lestrange was a long table, with the title ‘Victims’. James scanned down the list, his heart skipping a beat as he passed ‘Longbottom, Alice’, ‘Longbottom, Frank’, and ‘Lupin, Nymphadora’, until he reached the ‘M’s. There were at least ten Macmillans on the list.

‘All of his grandparents, his aunts, and his uncles,’ said Lucy softly. ‘Him and his parents are the only ones left.’

James looked sadly down at the list, while Matthew sat back down on his bed, looking mortified.

‘His entire family?’ said Matthew faintly.

‘Well... it isn’t that uncommon,’ replied Lucy. ‘The Bones were completely obliterated as well. And the Prewetts – Nathan and Ben are the only ones left.’

‘And the Lupins,’ added Fred quietly.

‘All we’re saying,’ said Lucy, ‘is don’t be too quick to judge.’

‘But she had nothing to do with all that,’ James protested.

‘I know, but it’s hard, you know. Imagine how you would feel if Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry were the only Weasleys and Potters left.’

James nodded glumly, and they left him. He pulled the curtains around his bed shut and slumped onto the pillows, falling into a troubled sleep.

#

The next morning he woke to the dawn of his first weekend at Hogwarts, and with the promise of meeting Hagrid. They spent the morning in the Common Room, doing homework at Matthew’s insistence (‘I’ll never do it if I keep putting it off.’). Alex still hadn’t returned by the time they walked down to Hagrid’s at eleven. James knocked on the door, and Hagrid pulled it open, revealing a large round room with a table in the middle, surrounded by chairs that didn’t look like they’d be able to hold Hagrid.

‘James,’ he said, ushering them in. ‘Make yerselves at home, I’ll put the kettle on.’

James ducked under a pheasant dangling from the ceiling and sat down at the table. Hagrid put a plate of rock cakes in front of them, and looked at Matthew.

‘This is Matthew,’ said James. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not a jot,’ he replied, waving a dustbin lid sized hand. ‘It’s good yer making friends. Vic said yeh were worried about it.’

James blushed.

‘Here yeh are.’ He filled three large mugs with tea from an enormous pot. ‘How’s yer firs’ week bin?’

The rock cakes were as hard as, well, rocks, but James and Matthew pretended to eat them while telling Hagrid all about their first week. He nodded grimly when they began to tell him about their flying lesson.

‘We wer’ talkin’ about it in the staff room,’ he said. ‘Not that I blame ‘im—’

He stopped abruptly, looking mortified. ‘I shouldn’t ‘ve said that.’

‘Lucy told us about the Macmillans,’ said James quickly. ‘About how they were...’

‘Destroy’d,’ said Hagrid.

‘Do you know what’s going to happen to him?’ asked Matthew.

‘No,’ he said. ‘An’ I wouldn’ tell you even if I did. Yer alright though, righ’?’ asked Hagrid. ‘No one tried to do anything?’

‘Why?’ asked James, attempting not to sound cagey.

‘No reason, no reason.’

‘Lucy and Fred thought that something might have happened to me as well though. Do you _know_ something?’

‘Of course they did! Someone was jinxed in yer lesson, yeh can’t expect ‘em to not be worried.’

‘But they sounded like they were expecting someone to attack me!’

‘Did someone attack yeh?’

Clearly Hagrid was not going to give up.

‘Well, Marcus Avery did crash into me. But I think it was an accident,’ he added quickly as Hagrid roared.

‘Not bloody likely!’

‘Do you think he was targeting me?’ said James.

‘No,’ said Hagrid quickly. ‘No o’ course not. Have yeh told yer father?’

‘What are those for,’ asked Matthew, changing the subject.

‘Wha’? Oh, the crossbows. They’re fer the Forest,’ Hagrid replied

They spend the rest of the morning talking to Hagrid about their lessons, and the Forest, and the box of slimy shell-less lobster things he was keeping for his next Care of Magical Creatures lesson. As they walked back to the Castle for lunch, James resolved to send a letter to his parents that evening. He was supposed to be writing every week for Albus anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is coming a couple of days late! Last week was utterly mad, and I barely had time to sleep, let alone write and edit a chapter. Normal service should resume this weekend.


End file.
